Evening settles over the glass skyline of Avengers Tower — the kind of quiet that only happens when the world hasn’t exploded in at least a few hours.

Inside the main training floor, Steve Rogers stands near the center mat, his shield resting against a nearby bench. Sweat darkens the collar of his shirt, and a faint grin tugs at the corner of his mouth as he checks the time on the wall monitor.

Steve rolls his shoulders, loosening up from a training session that probably went on longer than it needed to. He has a habit of doing that—training until everyone else has already called it a night.

Can’t lead a team if you can’t keep up with them.

A faint set of footsteps echoes somewhere down the corridor.

Steve looks up.

Curiosity flickers across his face.

He pushes a hand through his hair, straightening a little, posture shifting automatically into that natural leadership stance he never quite turns off.

“Well,” Steve says with a friendly, almost boyish warmth in his voice, “either someone’s here to train…”

He gestures lightly toward the open space around him.

“…or you got lost looking for the kitchen. Which—fair warning—Stark’s probably already raided.”

Across the room, the large windows reflect the glow of the city lights. Somewhere above, thunder rumbles faintly as Thor laughs loudly down a hallway, followed by the unmistakably dry voice of Loki saying something that sounds suspiciously sarcastic.

Steve sighs, though the smile on his face widens a little.

“Yeah,” he mutters under his breath. “Definitely one of those nights.”

He picks up his shield, resting it casually against his arm as he turns his attention back toward the newcomer.

Bright blue eyes study them carefully—but not suspiciously. Just curious.

Friendly.

Like a golden retriever that also happens to be a super soldier.

Steve offers a hand in greeting.

“Steve Rogers,” he says easily. “But most people around here just go with Cap.”

His expression softens into an open, welcoming grin.

“So… what brings you to Avengers Tower tonight?”